


if i’m dead to you, why are you at the wake

by malreves



Series: if you're fine with that, you can be mine [1]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, this is mostly just a lot of angst, unrequited sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26483653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malreves/pseuds/malreves
Summary: Sometimes she thinks,maybe I did the wrong thing, maybe there was a better answer, and then the voice in the back of her skull reminds her that this is herright, this is what wastakenfrom her. The voice reminds her of all she has lost to get here, all she has gained by being here. The voice reminds her of her mother, of being abandoned, of being forgotten, cast aside. She remembers and sherages.
Relationships: Cassandra/Rapunzel (Disney: Tangled)
Series: if you're fine with that, you can be mine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925353
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	if i’m dead to you, why are you at the wake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solisaureus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solisaureus/gifts).



> this is for my girlfriend, i hope u enjoy the suffering babe  
> there's a companion piece to this that is from rapunzel's pov, linked below  
> italic lyrics from taylor swift's "my tears ricochet"

_if i’m dead to you, why are you at the wake_

Sometimes she thinks, _maybe I did the wrong thing, maybe there was a better answer_ , and then the voice in the back of her skull reminds her that this is her _right,_ this is what was _taken from her_ . The voice reminds her of all she has lost to get here, all she has gained by being here. The voice reminds her of her mother, of being abandoned, of being forgotten, cast aside. She remembers and she _rages_. 

—

_we line up weeping in a sunlit room_

Gold, like the sunlight through the window. Soft and bright, and _golden_ . Faultless and perfect and just a hair's width out of arm's reach. It was almost possible to imagine that she could take Raps into her arms and hold her there for a moment, savor her for a moment. She could breathe her in and make the feeling last of silk between fingers, the expansion of her ribs between her palms. It was almost enough to imagine the possibility, the idea of her, of _them_. The idea that they could be, together and whole. Like sunlight and laughter, like happiness, if such a thing was possible. 

But she was content to watch, to catalogue the curve of a smirk, the crinkle of grass green eyes. Count freckles across her delicate nose from the space that lips could cross in a memory, or maybe a dream. Imagine tucking golden strands behind the softest skin of the shell of her ear. Flush at the thought of kisses and the barest idea of fingertips grazing skin. Exist in the space between memory and imagination, between what was and what could be. Rapunzel was the hero of the story, the hero of _her_ story; how could she not want her? 

—

There was a feeling of freedom. Of soaring. Of being _alive_. It was beautiful and glorious and that she could share it with Raps was everything Cassandra had ever needed, but didn’t even know she wanted. The chill of the air beneath her wings (wings!), the way Raps’ voice carried them through the trees, across the clear blue sky. The exhilaration of the drop accompanied with the elation of the lift. They were together and the whole world was laid at their feet. 

And yet Rapunzel still wanted more; she always wanted more. She wasn’t satisfied to spend the moment, however fleeting, with Cassandra, she wanted to fly for longer, higher, still pressing forward despite the ticking of the clock. 

It wasn’t a surprise then, when they were trapped. When they were stuck like this, unable to move forward or back. It wasn’t a surprise that Rapunzel’s carelessness had caught them in this tangled net. It was to be expected that so much wanting— too much wanting— would end so poorly for them. 

But when the egg cracked, and she felt her legs stretch out before her, the feeling of her fingers and hands, the clarity of coherent thought slip back into place, it was a surprise to see Raps had picked her in the end, over herself. 

—

_cause when i’d fight, you used to tell me i was brave_

There was a bitter aftertaste to everything they did. Something that reminded Cassandra that she wasn’t enough for Rapunzel; she’d never be enough for her. There was something acrid about how they never quite touched, not really, as if Rapunzel was avoiding the very thought of her skin grazing Cassandra’s. As if the idea of it was unfathomable. As if Cassandra wasn’t worthy of her grace. 

But then there would be moments where Rapunzel would reach for her, press her tight against herself and hold her for a breath, maybe even two. Moments that would feed Cassandra’s dreams for weeks on end; the perfume of her skin mixing desire with memory. 

Even when Cassandra would fight, would rage against her, against the unfairness of it all, Rapunzel would always be gentle. She would always hold her softly, press careful encouragement against the crown of her head, murmur endearments when no one else would hear. That was the problem though, wasn’t it? She was only worthy in the moments they were alone, in the moments where no one else would bear witness to them. The princess and the unfailing knight; what a cruel joke. What an unfair fate for her to bear. As if Cassandra could do anything but bear it; as if she could do anything, say anything, to make Rapunzel face it, face whatever it was that made Cassandra less than. Whatever it was that made Cassandra not enough. 

But it would never come to pass. 

—

Desperation filled her belly. Desperation mixed with dread and a healthy helping of fear. Ice that twisted through her veins; her pulse ratcheted up til the thrum of it was so loud in her ears that she could hear nothing else. The idea of killing Raps, of harming her any way, filled Cassandra with so much fear it tasted almost metallic in her mouth. Her palms became tacky with sweat and her tunic was suddenly too tight across her chest, keeping her from filling her lungs properly, fully. Keeping her from breathing and considering that this fear was just that, a fear— nothing real, nothing that could harm her or Raps. Nothing that could do anything to them. It was just a thought, a nightmare brought to her waking moments, a nightmare that, in this terrifying moment, she couldn’t escape. Rapunzel, dead at her feet. Rapunzel, impaled on her sword. Rapunzel, lifeless and pale, the light gone from her eyes. Because of Cassandra. The images flashed across her mind and she held back the bile that threatened to come forth. 

It was just a fear, nothing that would ever come true. She could never hurt Rapunzel, she could hardly bear to fight with her. It was just a bad dream, nothing more. 

—

_and if i’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too_

Cassandra kept the thoughts that made her mouth go dry, the thoughts that swirled through her head in the darkest parts of the night, locked tight to where she couldn’t reach them. She ignored the stabs in her belly when Raps pressed up against her, crowded her into a hug that she couldn’t escape from. The twist in her chest when the perfume of her hair, her skin, would cross the room and fill Cassandra’s senses with something so dizzy and intoxicating that she had to excuse herself, if only for a moment, to regain her bearings. She wanted so much it physically ached. She wanted so badly she could hardly wish for anything else. 

But she knew, she knew where the lines were, clearly demarcated in the sand. She knew what was acceptable and what wasn’t, what was reciprocated and what was only a dream. 

So when Rapunzel reached for her, one bright night under the stars as they made their way across the country, and held her face so carefully in her small hands, she didn’t dare breathe a breath of hope. She didn’t dare think that there was anything to the movement but a playful gesture, an affectionate grab. But for once, she didn’t pull away. She stayed there, still as a marble statue, and felt the ghost of Rapunzel’s lips press against hers. She stayed stock still as Rapunzel’s breath flitted across her face and didn’t dare breathe for fear of shattering whatever careful moment had been constructed between them. Didn’t do anything but close her eyes, kiss Rapunzel back, gentle and barely there, and hope. 

— 

She had known it was a bad idea. The incantation left her with an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She knew that whatever it would do, it couldn’t be good. It would leave them all the worse for it. And then Rapunzel had to go ahead and recite it— no, worse, she had to sing it, like her own incantation. She had to wreck the havoc of death and decay upon them, upon _Cass_. She hadn’t even considered Cassandra’s safety, the safety of the others who weren’t protected by the Sundrop flower like she was. She hadn’t for a moment, thought that maybe, just maybe, her friends might be affected by the spell she kept repeating over and over, like a mantra, stubbornness pervading her voice at the first few failed attempts. She just plunged in, headfirst like she did everything, ignoring Cassandra’s attempts at protecting them all from whatever it was that Rapunzel had wrought upon them this time, because it wouldn’t be the last.

The withering of her arm had felt like someone had taken the bone and blood and skin and had wrung it dry, wrung it until there was nothing left but decay. A memento mori to haunt her for the rest of her days, another testament to Rapunzel’s carelessness, her thoughtlessness when it came to Cassandra, or her safety. It was Rapunzel’s gift to Cassandra, a reminder of how unworthy she was, how she wasn’t worth the thought for Rapunzel. 

Cassandra wore it like a badge, but she didn’t know what of. 

—

_i can go anywhere i want (anywhere i want)— just not home_

It was too late. Too late to say “I’m sorry.” Too late for forgiveness, to go back. 

She had accepted this, embraced it even, the power the stone had given her. The rage that fueled her feelings of unworthiness, of resentment. There was always a trade for power, Cassandra had just never thought it would be so easy. 

Every bad thought she had ever thought when it came to Rapunzel propelling her every action, her every plan. All her anger for feeling second best, to Eugine, to Adira, to everyone who had come between her and Rapunzel, who Rapunzel had listened to first, before Cassandra, who Rapunzel had cared more about. 

Rapunzel had never really cared about her, never even loved her in the first place, because if she had, she wouldn’t have taken everything from Cassandra. Taken her heart and acted like it was nothing to hold, not worth taking care of. Rapunzel couldn’t have cared for her, because if she had, it would make everything Cassandra had done in her rage that much more terrible to behold. Because if she had cared for her, if Cassandra had been blind to it, what did that make Cassandra? 

Was she destined to be the villain of the story? Was there no other way out?

—

_flower gleam and glow_

It was quiet. That was what surprised her. It was quiet and peaceful. She had been so close, and yet it had still slipped through her fingers in the end. No longer destined to be the villain, she wasn’t destined to be happy either. There was nothing left for her in a world that had used her for its own purposes and cast her aside once the terrible job was done. She had been enough, for a time, she had played her role in the story well. The faithful friend turned betrayer. The protecting knight. The lost love.

 _let your power shine_

She had done all she could, and all she shouldn’t have, but she had played her part and done her duty, and fate had decided that was enough for her, her time was over now. 

It was peaceful, she thought, to be removed from the chaos of it all. The book closed, her chapter in Rapunzel’s story come to an end. No longer the villain, but too late to be the one great love. 

_make the clock reverse_

The breath that rocks through her frame is painful, and the peace dissipates. There is a voice, something so familiar it almost aches in her. 

_bring back what once was mine_

The first thing she really notices is the grass green of Rapunzel’s eyes staring right at her. 

—

_i didn’t have it in myself to go with grace_

“I love you, Raps.” She aches. 

“I love you, too, Cass.” She shatters. 

Perhaps she wasn’t destined to be the great love, but she was _a_ love, and that would be enough. It had to be. 


End file.
